Aurora screamed—rage, not fear, though fear twisted somewhere deep in her marrow. It was the sound of glass trying to contain a star. Her vision blurred. Her skin boiled. And still she fought.
Loki roared—a word that made time stutter. The roar wasn't noise. It was an idea, a command. It broke the rhythm of sound itself. It told reality to pause, and reality obeyed.
They poured everything into that strike.
Everything.
BOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM!!!
The world shattered.
No metaphor.
Mountains buckled.
Clouds vanished.
Reality blinked.
The wind turned to shards. Mana bled from the air like ruptured veins, a thousand silent screams leaking from the ruptured seams of the world's skin. Gravity lost meaning. Space refused form. Everything trembled—like the bones of a dying god.
And in the epicenter of it all—
Ouserous caught the sun.
With both hands.
Like a father catching a thrown spear meant for his child. Like it was a game. Like he'd been waiting centuries for this exact moment.
